


Organic and Ethically Sourced

by indevan



Series: Saiyan Babies [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 10:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11056875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: this is in the same universe asthese ficsbut i wrote this today as opposed to those, which were written six years ago





	Organic and Ethically Sourced

**Author's Note:**

> this is in the same universe as [these fics](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11009415/chapters/24528843) but i wrote this today as opposed to those, which were written six years ago

There was really no one in the entire city who would argue that Turles wasn’t the most entrepreneurial seven-year-old there was.  If there was a way for him to make money, he usually took it.  It came from never really having any and always wanting some.  He wanted candy and toys and there was no way he was getting any at home so he had to improvise.  He was also lucky that he had the perfect partner in crime--er--business.

“Oi, Turles.  Why do we gotta sell  _ juice? _ ” Raditz asked crossly.

Well, nearly perfect.  Raditz was a whole year younger than him and sometimes didn’t get the  _ nuances _ of business.

“To make money,” he explained.

“I know but why do we gotta  _ make _ the juice?” He glared at the pitcher that held the pinkish red juice. “I got juice.”

That was true enough--to an extent.  Raditz was holding a big can of Arizona iced tea, which his dad had gotten for him and his brother to  _ share _ but Raditz had made the executive decision not to because Kakarrot was scary when he had too much sugar.  Turles had spent enough time at their house to see it and it wasn’t pretty.

“Yeah, but we can’t sell your juice,” he said. “We have to sell  _ this _ juice and we can charge more ‘cause we made it.”

“Ohhhh!”

To prove his point, he pointed to the sign they had made that read: JUICE OF MIGHT $10.

“Isn’t ten whole dollars a whole lot for a cup of juice, though?” Raditz asked. “I only get three dollars a week for allowance so that’s, like, a whole month of allowance.”

He didn’t point out that most kids got more than that for allowance because pointing out that his family was poor wasn’t a nice thing to do.  Besides, the double wide that Raditz lived in with his parents and little brother was still much nicer than Turles’s house.  His mom and dad were nice, too.  They always gave him dinner and let him spend the night and even hugged him sometimes.

“And this is a bad location,” Raditz continued.  He took a drink from his can, having to hold it with both hands.  He slurped loudly, the sound reverberating off of the can and making Turles wince. “We should put it in the park or somethin’.  Or Nappa’s house.”

He sighed.

“Raditz, we can’t leave your yard, remember?” If one called the patch of dirt and weeds a  _ yard. _ “So we hafta work with what we got,  _ fuck. _ ”

He shrugged. “I guess so.  I still think ten dollars is a whole lot for some juice.”

“It’s  _ organic. _  See?”

Turles pointed back to the sign where he had written ORGANIC and ETHICALLY SOURCED in big letters.  He was proud that he had spelled them both correctly.  Raditz still didn’t seem convinced.

“I guess.  But what if it’s too expensive and no one buys it?”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Turles said. “Now, come on.  We gotta wait for customers.”

He took his hand and dragged him behind the foldout table that served as their juice stand.  Turles didn’t want to tell him but this juncture wasn’t  _ just _ for candy and toys.  He wanted to buy something nice for Raditz and his family for always being nice to him.  Even his weirdo little brother.

“Maybe we can make Nappa buy some,” Raditz said. “‘Cause he’s always watchin’ us.  I bet he would.”

“Yeah but do you know his number to call him?” Turles pointed out. “And ‘sides, we’re a physical business only.  No online orders.”

“Well  _ duh,” _ Raditz said, rolling his eyes. “How would you pour juice in an  _ envelope? _ ”

He didn’t bother to point out how ridiculous that was partially because sometimes it was easier to let Raditz have his way and also because he wasn’t entirely sure how you  _ did _ ship juice to someone.  At least they didn’t have to worry about their ice melting.  Raditz had dragged the cooler out and stuffed it full of ice from a bag in the freezer so they could scoop in as much as they wanted.

Turles looked at the other trailers around them and scrunched his face up in disdain.  Maybe they  _ should _ ignore the rules and go to the park.  It’d be easier to find customers.  It was hot--perfect juice weather--but no one was out.  Behind them, he heard a screen door slam.  He turned, wondering if it was a customer, but it was only Raditz’s little brother.

“Hey, I’m bored!” he said loudly. “And hungry!”

“Well, tell grandpa,” Raditz said.

“He’s sleepin’.  Hey, what’s that juice?”

Turles glared.

“It’s our business and unless you got monies, you can’t get none.”

Kakarrot pouted and crossed his arms.

“How much monies?”

“Ten dollars.”

Kakarrot frowned and digged down in his pockets.  He fished out two quarters and a glow-in-the-dark lizard finger puppet.

“Is this enough?”

“No, it’s fuckin’ not.”

Raditz whacked him gently with the bottom of his can. “Hey, don’t be mean to Kakarrot.”

Turles was about to sock him back but then remembered that it wasn’t good business practice and he didn’t want to get HR involved--whoever that was.

“Fine,” he said and then sighed. “If you want juice, you gotta bring us ten dollars.”

He wrinkled his nose.

“Don’t want it that bad…” He perked up as if he thought of something else. “Hey, Raditz, can I go to Geta’s house?”

Turles wasn’t sure how that was possible.  Vegeta lived on the whole entire other side of town in the biggest and fanciest house there was.  Kakarrot was  _ four _ \--although he’d argue that he was almost five.  That was practically a baby, still.

“Nuh-uh.”

“But I can take the bus like daddy showed me!” he whined.

“And daddy said we gotta stay here with Grandpa while he and mommy are at work!”

“Yeah!”

Sometimes Turles felt like he was Kakarrot’s second big brother.  He was so rambunctious, he needed two.

“Fine,” he squeaked, clearly quite put out.

With a stamp of his little foot, he went back into the house.  Raditz shook his head.  Turles nodded his in return, sharing an unspoken moment.  He turned back and nearly jumped in surprise.  Apparently during their argument with Kakarrot, a customer had come up.  He was so short, all Turles could see peeking over the edge of the table was light purple hair and big blue eyes.

“Um, hi,” Raditz said, clearly just as surprised.

He wondered how long he had been standing there but that wasn’t the real concern.  Raditz cocked his head to the side.

“Hey, isn’t that that Trunks kid?  Isn’t he too young to have money?”

Turles, being a year older, had a right to be responsible.

“He’s too fuckin’ young to be running around by himself is what.” He shook his head. “Since when do they let nursery school babies out of their cages by themselves?”

“Maybe he’s gotta microchip.”

Turles ignored him.  He had been kidding about the cages anyway.

“Hey, are you out here by yourself?”

He looked around and saw no grown-ups.  Trunks ignored him and put three nickels on the counter, standing on tiptoes so he could push them in their direction.

“Juice,” he said, pointing with his other hand at the pitcher.

Turles stared at the coins and sighed.  He was the boss so he was going to have to break it to him.

“Sorry, kid.  But it’s ten dollars for juice.”

Trunks furrowed his brow. “Dollars?”

“Paper monies,” Raditz clarified. “Ten of them.  This is, uh...how much is this, Turles?”

“Fifteen cents,” he reported smugly.

“Yeah, you need lots more.”

Trunks stared at his coins, at the juice, and then back at them.

“Okay!”

He took his money and ran off again.  Turles tucked his lower lip up under his upper one.  He was really small to be running around like that.  He knew that Vegeta had “adopted” him but he was, like, in kindergarten.  Trunks had to have  _ real _ parents, didn’t he?  Or was he like Turles?  Either way, he couldn’t help but be a little worried.

“Maybe we should lower the price,” Raditz said thoughtfully.

Turles shook his head, dragged from his reverie.

“And maybe you should shut the fuck up, Raditz.”

\--

A few blocks down from the trailer park where Raditz and Kakarrot lived was Capsule Corps, the second biggest house in town owned by the second richest family in town.

“We’re playing house,” Bulma announced. “Which means we’re playing married.”

At that, Vegeta wrinkled his nose.  He didn’t mind having Bulma as a girlfriend a lot of the time.  She was bossy but so was he and she gave him her desserts to share even if sometimes he forgot about sharing and ate the whole thing.  But he didn’t  _ want _ to play house and he definitely didn’t  _ want _ to play married.

“I don’t wanna,” he said.

“Well, we’re gonna.  Come on.”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the playhouse set up in the front yard.

“I’m a famous scientist,” she explained. “And I make tons of fancy inventions that make us lots of money.”

“Then what am I?” he asked.

“You can be a prince, I guess,” she said with a sigh, as if she already knew the only way to placate him.

Vegeta always wanted to play being a prince.  His dad owned most of the town, anyway, so it was sorta like he was royalty for real.

“So you do ruling stuff all day and I do science and we come home and talk about our day.”

That didn’t sound like a whole lot of fun.

“These are our babies.”

Bulma pointed to two stuffed animals propped against chairs that were outside the playhouse.

“This is Bulla,” she said, gently picking up a small stuffed cat. “Be careful.  She was only born, like, yesterday.”

She thrust the cat into his arms and Vegeta wrinkled his nose again.  No one said anything about  _ babies. _

“Hey, Bulma!  What about me?”

He had forgotten that Yamcha was here.  He was in his kindergarten class and super annoying.  He always had a fake sword and his silly little stuffed cat with him like he was super cool.  But he was Bulma’s friend so he had to pretend to like him.

“You can be the pool boy.”

“The pool boy?!”

Vegeta snickered.  This game was getting better.

“Yeah.  We have a big pool so you have to take care of it ‘cos we both work and can’t  _ maintain _ it.”

Bulma was incredibly proud of her vocabulary.  She was smart enough to be put into first grade but her parents kept her in kindergarten.

“Can I swim in the pool?”

“I don’t see why not.”

He seemed pleased by this turn of events and Vegeta rolled his eyes.  Some people were so easy to please.  They weren’t  _ complicated _ (a word his nannies used a lot because his dad wouldn’t let them say “difficult” anymore) like he was.

“Who’s the other baby?” he asked.

Bulma fetched the bear and held it aloft.

“This is our son, Vegeta the Third.  I let you name him after you.” She cuddled the bear to her chest. “He’s cute and sweet, just like you.”

Yamcha snorted. “That don’t sound like him at all.”

He turned and kicked the other boy in the shin.

“Ow!” He dropped his cat toy to grab his leg and glare at him. “See?”

He made a fist, ready to hit him again but was interrupted by someone coming up behind him and wrapping their arms around his middle.  He twisted his neck to see Trunks clinging to him.

“Daddy!” he chirped.

“Aah!” Bulma cried. “I forgot to include Trunks in our game.  He can be our other son.”

Trunks chose to ignore her and held his hands out.

“Monies for juice.”

On the flat of his hand were three nickels and Vegeta had no real concept of money (just that his family had a whole lot of it) but knew that wasn’t even enough to get a drink from a vending machine.  He dug into his pocket and handed him the two, crumpled dollar bills that were in there.

“Here.  And come back when you get it.  You can’t be runnin’ around by yourself.”

“Okay!” Trunks hugged him again. “Fankoo, daddy!”

“Uh, you’re welcome or whatever.”

He dashed back off down the street.

“Maybe we should go with him,” Bulma said. “He is just a tiny baby.”

“He’s got a sword,” Yamcha pointed out. “He’ll be okay.”

\--

Raditz sighed and propped his chin in his hands.  Except for Trunks, he and Turles hadn’t had  _ any _ customers.

“I’m lowering the price,” he announced.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare!”

“But Turles we don’t have any customers!  And we’ve used up a lot of ice!  And I think our juice’s got bugs in it now!”

He tapped his chin.

“Good point.  Let’s say it has protein.”

_ “Turles!” _

Raditz glared at him obstinately and Turles sighed in resignation.  He was older and smarter and more business savvy but Raditz was a lot more stubborn than him.

“Fine.  I’m not lowerin’ it but we can give  _ discounts _ to people.”

“What’s that?”

He rolled his eyes.

“It means some people get it for cheaper just ‘cause.”

“Ohhhh…”

Before Turles could explain further, they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat quietly.  They looked down to see that Trunks had returned.

“Monies,” he said seriously and shoved over two dollar bills.

Turles sighed. “That’s still not enough.”

“What about the discount?”

He elbowed him in the side. “Shh!  And besides, nursery school kids only get, uh, discount of five dollars.  You need to get more money, kid.”

“I did,” Trunks said quietly.  He splayed his hand on the dollars.

“But not enough.  Get three more dollars.  You can’t get juice with this.”

Trunks’s little hand closed around the money and he glared.  His other hand went to the plastic sword he wore at his back and Turles thought he was going to hit them with it.  He was little but that thing could still pack a wallop.

“Gonna tell my daddy on you.”

“He don’t got a daddy,” Raditz whispered.

Turles waved a hand.  He was done with this little kid.  To think he had been  _ worried _ about him before!

“Fine, go tell your fake daddy to give you more money.”

“Daddy’s gonna beat you up,” he said warningly before taking off down the street.

Turles shook his head.

“Fuckin’ babies.”

“Hey, what if he does have a for real daddy?” Raditz asked. “My daddy’s not here to beat him up.”

Turles considered his words for a moment before another brilliant idea came to him.

“We’ll make Nappa do it!”

\--

Chi-Chi poked her head around the side of the trailer, watching her target.  He was behind his house, eating a clementine.  Ants were crawling over the rinds that he had dropped on the ground but he didn’t seem to notice or care.  She had to act fast.  Her papa didn’t know that she had snuck out of their house and come here and she’d probably be grounded for a whole week if he knew she was running around by herself without telling anyone.

She crept around the corner and sprinted into his yard.

“Hey, Kakarrot!” she called, waving.

He looked up, biting into a wedge of fruit just in time for it to dribble down his chin.

“Hi, Chi-Chi,” he said, mouth full.

She giggled a bit and looked away.  She had taught herself to read on her mama’s romance novels and had decided that she, at the bright age of four and three quarters, needed a boyfriend.  Not just any boyfriend.  The boy who lived three streets down with the funny name and funnier hair.  He was in her class and one time let her use his safety scissors when hers weren’t working right.  That was true love as far as she was concerned.

“What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to go to Geta’s house but Raditz won’t let me do that  _ or _ have juice.”

“Juice?” She asked.  She had seen the two older boys out front with their card table and weird sign but, wisely, she avoided them.  Turles was one of the scariest kids in school.

“Yeah!  It costs ten dollars and I don’t got that.”

Kakarrot pouted and folded his arms.  To Chi-Chi, this was an amazing development.  She bit her lip and scuffed her foot through the dirt.

“I got ten dollars,” she said and then giggled.

“You do!” Kakarrot’s face lit up.

She nodded.  She had just gotten her allowance and she was going to save it for her education (education, her mama said, was very important) but she was willing to sacrifice it.

“We can share,” she said.

“Really?!” he exclaimed and then frowned. “Is there a catch?  Daddy says stuff always has a catch.”

“Weeeellll…” Chi-Chi knew this was her only chance.  She put both hands on her hips. “If I get you a juice, you gotta be my boyfriend.”

“Boy...friend?” He cocked his head to the side. “What’s that?”

She sighed.  Kakarrot was cute but he was pretty clueless.

“It means we’re dating and I’m your girlfriend,” she explained.

“Girl...friend...hmmm…” He tapped his chin and then brightened. “Oh!  Geta’s got one of those!  And if he’s got one, I want one.”

Chi-Chi wasn’t sure who this “Geta” was but she wanted to thank him, whoever it was.

“So you’ll be my boyfriend?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh!  Uh-huh!”

Kakarrot grabbed her hand and Chi-Chi blushed straight to her toes.  A boy was  _ holding her hand. _  The books couldn’t prepare her for  _ this. _

“Let’s go get the juice right now!”

Chi-Chi kept her feet planted.

“Okay, but ‘cause I’m your girlfriend, you gotta share it, okay?”

“Share?” He frowned. “I guess so.”

She smiled to herself.  Love was the best.

\--

It took a little bit because Bulma was working on her latest “award-winning experiment” but Trunks was finally able to drag Vegeta the requisite blocks over to where Raditz and Turles stood behind their card table.

“Thems!” he said accusingly.

Vegeta wasn’t the least bit surprised.  Every time he interacted with those two, they were always causing trouble and making him do things he didn’t want to do.  Just ‘cause they were older and bigger.  He glared.  He hated when people told him what to do and the fact that they had denied Trunks juice was simply unforgivable.

“What kind of juice is that?” Yamcha asked, wrinkling his nose.

“‘Juice of Might,’” Bulma read dutifully. “What’s that?”

Turles and Raditz ignored their questions.  They were more preoccupied with their only customer bringing the angriest little kid in the whole entire town down on them.  They probably should have figured that he was who Trunks meant when he said “daddy.”

“My son wants some juice,” he said, seething. “You better give it to him.”

“Your  _ son _ didn’t have enough fuckin’ money,” Turles said matter-of-factly.

Vegeta smacked his fist down on the table. “I gave him, like, two dollars!  How much does he need?”

His gaze drifted upwards at the sign.

“Ten dollars?!”

“That’s way too much,” Yamcha agreed, even if he hated to agree with Vegeta on anything. “Especially ‘cause there’s bugs in it.  Right, Puar?”

He turned to his stuffed cat who, of course, didn’t answer.

“It’s our price,” Turle said, lifting his nose. “He never brought ten dollars.”

“What about the disc--”

“Shhh, shut up, Raditz!  I’m makin’ a point now.”

“That’s practically stealin’!” Vegeta snapped.

“Fight!  Fight!  Fight!” Bulma chanted. “Kick their butts, Geta!”

Turles scoffed.

“I’d like to see you try it, you fuckin’ kindergartener.”

Trunks beamed up at him.

“Fight ‘em, daddy!” he exclaimed.

Raditz, who had gotten in trouble with his daddy for fighting, widened his eyes.

“Let’s not!”

“Why not?  We can take him!”

“Yeah, but what if grandpa Gohan or Kakarrot sees and tattles?  I don’t wanna get grounded again.”

“ _ You’re _ the tattler, Raditz!” A tiny voice cried from somewhere but when Raditz whipped his head around, he didn’t see his little brother anywhere.

Yamcha stroked his chin.

“Maybe if me and Vegeta work together, we can--”

“I don’t need  _ your _ help,” he said. “I’ll beat them up myself!”

“Nooo!” Raditz cried.

He leaned over the table and threw his arms out.  He liked a good fight but the prospect of his daddy being mad--or worse,  _ disappointed-- _ was enough to have him try to keep the peace.

“We’ll just give Trunks some juice, right?  For two dollars.”

“Raditz--”

He ignored him and turned to where the pitcher was, only to see that it was gone.  In its place was a crumpled, ten dollar bill.  Confused, he turned around to see Kakarrot was sitting on the lawn, drinking from the pitcher.  Only some of it was getting in his mouth but the majority of it dripped down his shirt.

“Daddy’s gonna kill me for letting him get all sticky,” he moaned.

Raditz apparently wasn’t the only one disturbed by this turn of events.

“Juuuuice!” Trunks whined.

“Our profit margins!” Turles exclaimed.

Vegeta bared his teeth.

“Whatever.  Come on, Trunks.  You can come back to Bulma’s and have better juice.”

He immediately brightened. “Okay, daddy!”

“And we’ll have the pool boy clean the pool and go swimming,” Bulma promised, ignoring Yamcha’s squawk of indignation.

“Okay, mommy!”

“And I can teach you to use your sword better,” Yamcha added.

“Okay, poo’boy!”

He let out a frustrated cry.  Before anyone could even move, a frustrated cry rented the air.  Everyone turned to see a dark-haired girl none of them really knew wrenching the pitcher from Kakarrot’s hands.

“I said  _ share. _ ”

He smiled sunnily. “Oops.  Sorry.”

Immediately, she blushed. “It’s okay.”

The girl took a drink of juice and handed the pitcher back.

“See?  Sharing.  That’s what couples do.”

Kakarrot nodded in understanding.

“Couples?” Turles asked. “When did Kakarrot get a girlfriend?”

“My baby brother’s too young to date!” Raditz exclaimed. “Kakarrot, get away!  She has cooties!”

“I do not!”

The card table was forgotten as Raditz began chasing his thoroughly sticky brother around the yard while the little girl chased Raditz and Turles took off after them both, slighted at the loss of his business partner.

“Should we join in?” Yamcha asked.

Vegeta shook his head. “Nope.  Let’s go back.  C’mon, Trunks.  C’mon, Bulma.”

“What about me?”

He stared him dead in the eye and said, “C’mon, Puar.”

**Author's Note:**

> vertigoats.tumblr.com


End file.
